


Infestation

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [62]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cuddlecore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6588394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara didn’t seem to realize how suspicious the phrase “everything is fine” was, especially when used as a conversation opener, and then repeated multiple times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infestation

**Author's Note:**

> for anon, who prompted: Twelve, Clara, Danny Pink; pure happy fluff

Clara didn’t seem to realize how suspicious the phrase “everything is fine” was, especially when used as a conversation opener, and then repeated multiple times.

Came in handy, though. Danny had a system worked out. “Everything is fine,” well, no, but she’d sort it out. “Everything is absolutely, totally fine,” maybe start getting worried. And so on, up until the terrifying text message he’d received that morning:

_Everything is super don’t worry, I can’t make dinner tonight but don’t worry because things are great._

She’d been kidnapped, obviously. Or had landed in space-jail with her terrible space-friend. Or the world was ending. Or -

Danny was still running through possible disaster scenarios when he knocked frantically on the door to her flat.

“Go away!” The space-jerk, muffled, in a strangled kind of almost-shout-but-trying-(failing)-to-be-quiet voice.

“Clara, you in there?” He bent down and peered through the keyhole. Blacked out with something. Of course.

“Yeah.” Clara, oh, thank God. “I’m here, and I’m fine, I just can’t…okay, hold on.”

Odd grunts and squeaks, a series of sort of…fwoomping sounds. Onomatopoeia, not his strong suit.

She unlocked the door and cracked it open a hair. “See? Everything’s okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

And yes, he did catch that muttered ‘probably’ she tried to hide at the end there, he’s not deaf.

“Hey. Clara. Open the door, okay? Please, whatever’s happening, just let me help.” He held her gaze, or, well, the 20% of her right eye he could see.

She sighed, and stepped back.

Space-jerk, in a rising panic: “Absolutely not. No. _Clara_.”

Clara opened the door. And revealed:

“Um.” Danny shook his head, like maybe that’d put his brain back in place. “Is it just me, or. Is your flat filled with Tribbles?”

“'Tribbles’? What? No. Snovarians.” Spa-alright, if Clara wasn’t in mortal danger, Danny could be magnanimous enough to use the arsehole’s real name. ‘Name’. _The Doctor_ continued: “Harmless, just…slightly too many of them here, currently. Not my fault.”

“Totally your fault,” Clara said, wading through the sea of fur.

Danny followed her gingerly in, closing the door behind him. Small fuzzy blue round things purring and rubbing up around his ankles. He crouched, carefully, and picked one up. Teeny, beady black eyes peered curiously back at him.

“Hey, little buddy,” he said. It cooed back. His heart melted. “If you had to be invaded by aliens, could be worse.”

The Doctor harrumphed, but it was even harder than it usually was to take him seriously. Sitting (probably) on the couch (hard to tell, what with all the - Snowmans?)(???) covering it, and him. He was petting the topmost Snozzberry absently, the thing burrowing inside his coat.

That was not adorable, right. Not even a little bit. It was the fact that Clara had slogged her way next to him, brushing just enough space free on the couch to sit down, holding a little buddy and looking at it with a barely-restrained look of pure joy that made Danny’s heart sing. The Doctor just got some of the runoff.

He made his way over, very carefully nudging furballs aside, and eased himself down on the couch. Clara and a few dozen aliens as buffer between him and the Alien; there were limits, okay.

“Pretty sure these are Tribbles, and I’m in an episode of _Star Trek,_ because I’m actually in a coma.” They both ignored Danny, but that was fine. This was all totally fine.

“We just need to be patient. Once the beacon comes back into orbit, they’ll follow the signal and head back into the TARDIS, and then I can take them home.” The Doctor fidgeted awkwardly, causing a sort of ripple effect as the creatures squirmed away.

“Not all of them. Keepin’ this one,” Clara announced, squishing her chosen Snufflewhatever gently.

“No, you’re not.” Quiet, almost listless. Oh, what’s that? The Doctor defeated? Could it be?

Danny glanced over. The Doctor was, very slowly, sinking down into the pile of happily squeaking creatures, apparently resigned to the two nestling in his hair. Danny didn’t bother stifling his laughter.

“He needs a name. She? Them? They need a name.”

“Admiral Fuzzroy. The third.” Danny leaned over and scritched Admiral Fuzzroy III where he hoped a chin-analogue might be.

“Gonna chime in?” Clara nudged the Doctor. “Right, go ahead, tell us how you speak their language and they’re actually called Sam or Thunderbolt or whatever.”

“Only Snovarians speak Snovarian. Their language is far too complex to be translated.” Obviously. Duh.

“So we’re gonna just sit here, then.” Danny was okay with that.

“Why not? This is nice. Cuddling with my boyfriend, my - the Doctor, and my five thousand adopted children.” She put her arm around them both, tugging them close.

“And the best part, Admiral, is that this scenario is so absurd that even I don’t have to admit that this happened.” Danny gave the fluffball a conspiratorial glance.

“This is objectively, factually occurring.”

“The Admiral agrees with me, Doctor. Two against one.”

“Three against eight billion,” Clara said. “Oh, my flat’s gonna be _wrecked_. But that’s fine. This is all…very okay.”

Danny was happy to take her at her word.


End file.
